


If You Knit a Lance a Sweater

by Starbuck7



Series: Voltron Canon Expansion [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith is bad at crafts, M/M, Ugly Sweaters, if this scene went any further it would be mature, klance kiss, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbuck7/pseuds/Starbuck7
Summary: Keith has been learning about crafts since discovering Lance’s talents back in Autumn (in the Castle of Lions). He decides to make Lance a sweater to repay him for his gift. And that goes about as well as you might expect...





	If You Knit a Lance a Sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brethilaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brethilaki/gifts).



> This was written as a birthday present for brethilaki. THIS IS SO LATE YOU GUYS. This is not even the right birth month. Nope, not last month, either. It's that bad.
> 
> Anyway, this is a season 3 established Klance. It vaguely mentions the first work in this series (Autumn in the Castle of Lions), but you can totally read it alone. Enjoy!!

Lance scrolled through the apps on his phone absently, one leg propped up over the back of the couch, the other draped across the entirety of the seat beside him. There was no one else in the lounge today, anyway. And, even if every inhabitant of the Castle of Lions were present, it would still fit everyone comfortably--despite Lance’s jeaned legs ornamenting a good chunk of the only seating in the room. 

The telltale swish of the doors announced the arrival of some company, and Lance gratefully looked up. This place had gotten pretty dull lately; Hunk and Pidge were preoccupied with some collaborative decryption protocol with the Blade. Allura was being all leader-y and important with the Olkari. Coran was swamped with repairs and Lance didn’t dare approach him in the middle, or risk getting voluntold to pitch in.

Shiro was… Well, Shiro was different since he’d returned. Everyone insisted he just needed time to readjust, including the man himself. Lance couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, being back in Galra hands a second time; he hoped Shiro would come back to himself soon. 

And then there was Keith… 

When he wasn’t training, he was with Shiro-- _as usual_. So it surprised Lance to see Keith stride through the lounge doors with a small gray shipping container in tow, dropping down into a couch pod opposite him. 

“Hey, Lance,” Keith said, setting the box to his right and settling down onto the seat in black pants that were criminally tight against his lithe form. 

“Hey, man,” Lance replied, but Keith just sat there, chewing on his lip. Lance’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Thought you were checking in on Shiro?”

“I was. He’s gonna try and rest, clear his head.” Keith showed no desire to look at Lance, so the former Blue Paladin dropped his eyes back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly.

“Makes sense. Does he remember anything?”

“Nothing yet. But he didn’t remember anything the first time. It’ll come back.” 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. The first time was pretty rough. Not sure if I should be hoping he remembers, or hoping he doesn’t.”

“Yeah…” Keith nodded to himself for a moment, biting his lip. “So… What’re you up to?”

“Uh…” Lance looked up at Keith, frowning suspiciously. “Literally nothing. Just trying to pick a game or something.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” Keith observed the room. The totally empty white room with its black floors, eyes darting around at absolutely nothing worth seeing. Lance cocked a brow.

“What’s going on, Keith? You’re doing that thing again.”

Keith glanced cautiously back at him. “What thing?”

“Oh, please. Like you don’t know _the thing_ ,” Lance began, adding some roughness to his voice and dropping it a bit. “ ‘It’s an alien spaceship, Lance. The walls here are just… interesting… how shiny they are.’ You always get like this when you’re about to chicken out of saying something. Just get it over with.”

“I wasn’t chickening out!” Keith hopped up from the seat, but still couldn’t hold Lance’s gaze. “And that was _one time_.”

He gestured at a light that had captured Keith’s attention. “Then stop staring at wall sconces and spit it out already!”

“Fine!” Keith shouted, hoisting the shipping container from the couch and hurling it at Lance’s chest. With a bit of quick maneuvering born from recent months of combat training, Lance managed to catch the box before it hit anything important. He glanced up at Keith, whose face was a satisfyingly pasty white, eyes wide.

“Was that really necessary?” Lance asked, cocking one eyebrow and knocking his head to one side. Keith looked away and sighed. 

“No,” he replied, shifting his weight to his back foot. “But it felt pretty good.” Keith reluctantly shuffled towards him, plopping into the seat to Lance’s right. “Open it.”

“Is this… a gift?” Lance wondered, rolling the box back and forth in his hands, “That you just fastballed at my head?” 

“I was aiming at your arms, you big baby. Just open it.”

So he did. Removing the electronic locks on either side, Lance lifted the lid off and spied a red mess of weave haphazardly tucked in the small box. Setting the lid aside, he pulled out the item and stretched it out, finding two sleeves and realizing eventually that it was supposed to be a sweater. 

“You… knit me a sweater!” Lance exclaimed, plastering a smile over his features and layering on the charm. “Thank you, Keith! I can’t _believe_ you spent the time to do this for me!”

“I know it’s awful, Lance,” Keith said with a weary smile. “You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

“Oh thank god,” Lance breathed. “I wanted to be nice. But what if being nice just made you _worse_ at this?”

Keith bristled, but he decided to let the comment go. “I just wanted to show you that I could follow through on it.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to say you were lazy or something, Keith,” Lance replied, shifting the clumpy red atrocity in his hands. “You just… you’ve been distracted lately. With all the time you spend with Shiro… I didn’t think you’d have time to finish.”

“I know. With Shiro back, and Lotor’s plans… Things are just hectic right now.”

“When are they not, though?” Lance asked, lips dancing to one side of his face in an effort at a casual smile.

“I didn’t mean for things to… get in the way.” This time Keith’s eyes drilled into Lance’s without falter. “I’m trying to be better. I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I won’t let things get in the way again.”

Lance nodded with a small smile. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Besides, I needed to thank you for teaching me knitting. So…” Keith trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the hideous bundle, so Lance took the opportunity.

“So... you decided the best way to thank me was making this hunchbacked monstrosity of a sweater? Feels more like an insult to my teaching than a thank you.”

“I already said I knew it was bad.”

“Keith, bad doesn’t even begin to cover it. You could literally fit _two_ of me in here! Are you sure you didn’t make this for Shiro? Or maybe _Zarkon?_ I think he’s got a better chance of fitting this.”

“You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Definitely not.” Lance inspected a portion of sloppy loops under the right arm of the sweater. “Oh my god, what happened here? Did you completely forget which side was knit and which was purl? _That was lesson one!_ ”

“I very much regret this…”

“You just cut it and tied it off here? You didn't even fix it, you just added another line? _Who does that?!_ ”

“So, this was clearly a mistake.” Keith made a move to grab the sweater, but Lance whipped it back from his outstretched hand.

“No! You made it for me, and it’s mine. No takebacksies.”

Keith sighed, reclining back in the couch. “Fine, it’s yours to burn or whatever.”

Lance’s eyes twinkled. “I’m gonna wear it.”

“What, now?” Keith looked at him, mouth agape. “You’re kidding, right?”

Lance paused the act of pulling his arms through the lopsided sleeves to throw Keith a scathing look. “Do you _know_ me?”

“It’s twice your size; you said it yourself,” Keith insisted as Lance pulled it over his head. 

They were both right; he was swimming in the too-big nightmare of knitting abuse. But the comment inspired a wicked thought, and an equally wicked grin spread across Lance’s features.

“Then, maybe there’s enough room for two.” Lance grabbed the bottom of the tangled heap of yarn masquerading as a sweater with both hands. Lifting its tapered bottom as quickly as he could, he pulled it over Keith, capturing him within.

It was a snug fit in certain places--more roomy in others--but they fit nonetheless. Keith pulled his arms in front of him immediately, pressing into Lance’s abs and struggling to push himself down and out of the sweater. But Lance kept a tight hold on his lower back.

“Let me out!” Keith bellowed into Lance’s chest, the warm condensation of his breath tickling through his thin shirt.

“Not a chance. Show some pride in your work, Keith. You _made_ this!”

Keith gave up the fight to extricate himself, instead opting to push his head through the enormous neck. He gasped for breath as he broke through to the surface, head knocking Lance’s chin on the way up. 

“Hey!” Lance cried indignantly. “Watch it, mullet!”

“You’re the one that trapped me in here!” Keith shouted, mouth less than a breath away.

“And I’m very proud of that,” Lance sassed back.

“Yeah?” Keith asked, a dangerous smirk twitching at his mouth and fire burning in his eyes. 

Lance froze as a pair of hands slowly slid around his sides, working their way under his baseball tee. Fingers cautiously danced across the skin of his ribs and then his back, pushing into the flesh and pulling him tighter against Keith. His breath hitched. 

Keith just smirked. 

“No comeback for that, huh?”

Lance’s head was in a daze. “I… honestly can’t even remember what we were talking about.”

Keith chuckled, face softening as he leaned forward to speak against Lance’s lips. 

“That’s the way I like it.”

Keith pressed forward gently at first, catching Lance’s lips while Lance tried to catch his breath. He inhaled Keith’s smell--spice and leather and an astringent soap that he insisted on using despite Lance’s warnings about potential skin damage. Lance sighed breathily as Keith’s teeth dragged against his lower lip, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked up again, a sinful smirk greeted him. 

Lance frowned, breathing into Keith as he leaned back in, “Oh, you think you’re so impressive.” 

“Mmhmm,” Keith replied, thrusting his quirked lips forward, crashing into Lance and nearly knocking them both backward on the couch. Lance kept hold of Keith’s back, shifting his hands lower, down and over his firm hips. Keith moaned, and Lance took that as an invitation, tongue exploring Keith’s open mouth. Keith might have lost his step as the leader of Voltron--confidence shaken by the return of Shiro--but he was more than happy to take the lead here. Lance huffed indignantly as Keith’s hands crawled up his shoulder blades. Normally he’d like to wipe that smug look off his face, throw Keith off balance.

Instead, Lance let Keith shift him forward, pulling himself onto Lance’s lap. He let Keith set the pace, stroking along his outer thighs in encouragement. In response, Keith shifted one hand up to Lance’s neck, tugging gently on his hair as he leaned forward. Alright, so maybe his hair was getting a little longer there. But it was nothing compared to mullet over here. 

Lance felt dizzy and warm, excited and totally relaxed. Ribs pressed tightly against Keith, breathing in Keith’s heat and tasting it on his tongue--it was electric. Keith let out a deep, throaty moan as Lance slid his hands back up those thin black pants. It was good to get their fearless leader out of his own head once in a while. Lance smiled against Keith’s insistent lips. 

And then Keith bit him. 

It wasn’t anything major. It was a love bite, barely more than a nibble. But the suddenness of it caught Lance off guard and he jolted, his body shifting backward instinctively. And of course Keith, tethered by his own folly of a sweater, was tugged forward along with him. Lance knocked his shoulder blades hard into the edge of the couch and rolled off onto the floor. He heard a yelp from Keith as they tumbled to the floor. 

“Lance, get off!” Keith groaned. Still a little dazed, it took a moment for Lance to move off of Keith’s trapped right arm. 

“Sorry, man,” Lance replied, “But, hey! You’re stabbing my bicep with your stupid head. _You_ get off.”

Keith huffed, lifting his head so Lance could resituate the arm under his neck. 

“Happy now?” Keith taunted.

“That my new sweater almost got us both killed? Ecstatic. And here I thought I’d found you a non-violent craft.”

“I’ll stick with carving, I guess.”

“I suppose… I mean, I guess I could teach you for a little longer. Maybe you could do a scarf or something next time. Much less dangerous. And easier. A lot easier.”

“Easier sounds good.”

“If you have time, I mean,” Lance said, smirking as his eyes shrugged along with his shoulders. “With Shiro and Lotor and everything.”

Keith shoved him playfully. “I have time.” He leaned in close and spoke in a whisper, smile tugging at his lips. “I just keep getting distracted.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, brethilaki! I hope you enjoyed this little Klancey one-shot. Anything for you!!
> 
> [Check out brethilaki's stuff here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brethilaki/pseuds/brethilaki/)
> 
> Gobs of thanks to my beta, quiiiznak. [Follow quiiiznak on Tumblr!](http://quiiiznak.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And [follow me on tumblr while you're at it!](http://starbuck-7.tumblr.com/)


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